


20 Questions, 1 Secret

by Celticas



Series: Trope Bingo [14]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: CC Trope Bingo, Confessions over comms, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-03
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22999723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celticas/pseuds/Celticas
Summary: Clint gets bored on comms and insists Phil plays 20 questions.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson
Series: Trope Bingo [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1518110
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67
Collections: Clint/Coulson Trope Bingo





	20 Questions, 1 Secret

“You were older than twenty.” Clint said suddenly, the comms crackling at the sound. The statement seemed to come out of nowhere if you didn’t know the speaker.

“1.”

Clint could hear the smirk in Phil’s voice. He didn’t take his eyes off the empty doorway he had been watching for two days without anyone coming in or out of it, he hadn’t expected to get his first guess right.

“You were younger than ten.” He tried.

“2.”

With only two questions he had it down to a decade. “You were in high school.” Whether this guess was right or wrong it would slash it in half again.

The line was silent.

First one to him.

“It was at school.”

“4.”

Phil sounded distracted this time, something had caught his attention. Or he had run out of coffee in shitty hostel room he was monitoring Clint from and was waiting for the creaky old machine to spurt out the worst cup of coffee Clint had ever had, which was saying something.

“You were at home.”

Phil’s “5” was almost lost in the commotion below as three men tumbled out of the door Clint was watching. They were screaming at each other and punches were already being thrown.

The game was forgotten among the activity. 

In quick succession, as often happened on one of their ops, things started exploding and went from bad to worse.

They didn’t get back to the game until the next time it was just the two of them, and he was waiting for something to blow up. It was three months later and Clint hadn’t forgotten, although he was sure Phil had hoped he had.

“Where were we?” Clint hummed, purposefully vocalising in the range that set the line crackling.

“Barton.”

“Hmmm, five questions down. Both of your parents were there.” Clint posited.

“Are we really still doing this?” Coulson’s tired sigh came across clearly. 

“Yep.” Clint practically chirped as he shuffled further into the large white snow suit.

“Fine.”

No number, he had gotten it right.

“At your Dad’s surgery. “ He didn’t stop to give Phil a chance to answer. “I can see it now, gangly teenage Phillip, you hadn’t grown into your limbs yet, stumbling over yourself. I recon’ it was an encounter of opportunity rather than a planned thing. The receptionist at your Dad’s surgery. And halfway through you had a gay awakening.”

“What? That doesn’t even make sense Barton. And 7.”

Clint smirked, he had Phil’s attention now. “Hmm.. you would never defile your mom’s library like that… Would you?” 

The wording wasn’t quite in the rules, but Phil still answered. “8.”

“I want it noted that I did not make a yo’mamma joke.” Clint over-enunciated the words and spoke louder than he had earlier for the benefit of whoever was listening back at base.

“Noted.” Sitwell broke into the line.

Phil sighed again.

“In the car.”

“9.”

He needed to narrow it down a little more…

“You were talking... to your parents.” He couldn’t figure out a way to ask if he was talking to one of them or both at the same time. Shoot, he was going to have to give up a few questions to find out.

“10.”

“One of them.”

“11.”

That at least saved him asking about each of them individually.

“You were at a family event.” It was a decently broad sentence and Phil’s silence both helped and didn’t. ‘Family event’? What had he been thinking? That could mean anything!

“Birthday.”

“13.”

“Wedding.”

“14.”

Funeral.”

“15.”

“Reunion.”

“16.”

He was burning through his guesses faster than his body was burning calories to keep him warm in the minus 30 degree night. But the hesitation before reunion gave him something to work with.

Reunion… reunion…. What could that be. Family holiday? This wasn’t fair, Clint’s experience with actual, normal family was from re-runs of The Nanny and Fresh Prince of Bel-Aire.

“Family Holiday?”

“17.” Phil almost sounded sorry about telling him he was wrong. Or he would if he didn’t sound so exasperated.

When else would everyone be together? If Phil was even a little bit religious he would be asking about Christenings or Bat Mitzvahs or something.

“Anniversary?” That was a thing people did wasn’t it?

Phil’s silence told him it was actually a thing they did.

“Target in sight.” Phil said from his comfy, toasty van five miles down the road.

Time to work.

The target fell with the barely audible twang-swish of his bowstring, and thwump of her body hitting the snow. 

An hour later, Phil slipped into the seat next to Clint’s in the back of the quinjet.

“Sorry.” The older man murmured low enough that the other two agents in the hold couldn’t hear.

Clint shrugged. There wasn’t anything either of them could do to fix Clint’s crappy upbringing. He had come a long way from the anger and distrust he had carried when he had first joined SHIELD. “It’s okay.”

Phil took him at his word. Nodding, he pulled out his tablet and started working on his AAR. The game was forgotten for the next couple of missions, everything moving fast enough that neither of them got a chance to get bored.

Six weeks later, Phil broke first. They had been watching a deserted island for a week waiting for an arms trade that Clint was starting to suspect wasn’t going to happen.

“I believe you have two left.” Phil prompted.

“25th Anniversary.” That would work out at about the right time.

Phil was quiet. The quiet slap of the small waves against the side of the boat the only sound. How much detail would Phil expect before he would concede?

“You did the math because of the event and figure out it didn’t line up.”

Still Phil was silent.

“You figured out that you were adopted at your parent’s 25th anniversary because they couldn’t have conceived when you would have needed to be.” Clint smirked at having worked it out.


End file.
